


The Path

by sacredraisincakes



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22627225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacredraisincakes/pseuds/sacredraisincakes
Summary: Arthur is not the only one to lose his mother at birth.  Canon diverges from the very beginning as Merlin is orphaned in Camelot and taken in by the king.  But Camelot is not safe for a child with no control over his magic, and Uther is not about to allow anyone to unleash evil upon his kingdom, even the boy he has sworn to protect.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 135





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> New chapter posted every Sunday.
> 
> Warnings for sibling incest even though Merlin and Arthur are in the same not-really-siblings situation as canon Arthur and Morgana were (before we found out they were actually half-siblings anyway). But if the grey area bothers you, here's your warning.

In any other circumstance, Uther Pendragon would have sent every person who sent him a pitying glance straight to the stocks. Right now, however, he was far too busy trying to rush through the castle towards Gaius’s chambers and blocking out the piercing squalls of his son tucked under his arm.

He’d been carrying on like this since Uther had stopped by his nursery perhaps ten minutes ago. Uther had intended to make it quick visit, more to satisfy Gaius’s veiled accusations than anything, but when he had arrived, it was to find his son’s nursemaid swotting him on the rear while the child wept and tried to run away. Uther had of course immediately sacked the maid, who had dared to raise a hand to her prince, whatever his age. Unfortunately, that left him without someone to watch the boy while he went about his duties. His son, unconcerned by whatever duties a king may have and already overwhelmed by earlier events, proceeded to scream at the top of his lungs while Uther awkwardly patted him on the back.

No one had ever accused Uther of being the most maternal of people, and that was why he now sought out Gaius.

When he arrived at Gaius’s chambers, however, the man was nowhere to be seen.

“Gaius?” he called out. It was possible the man was simply bending down to pick something up out of sight.

The only answer was a whimper from the back room, barely audible over the boy’s cries.

Uther stepped inside and made his way over to the mostly closed door. Pushing it open he found a peasant woman lying in the bed, the source of her distress evident from her large belly.

“You there, where is the physician?”

He spotted the incredulous look in her eyes before she managed to mask it in a semblance of deference. “He- he went to get water, sire.” She bit back a moan as her body tensed up on the bed.

Uther’s attention was diverted from her then by the sudden silence in the room. He stared at his son, who had finally silenced himself to stare intently at the woman. He squirmed himself out of Uther’s arms and before Uther could stop the boy, he had climbed up onto the rushes beside her.

The woman grimaced out a smile. “Hello there, little one. What is your name?”

“Affa!” he declared with a toothy smile.

“He is Arthur.” He did his best not to wince at the name. Ygraine had picked it out, before… He still couldn’t say it without thinking of her.

The woman clearly noticed, but she addressed the boy. “That’s a wonderful name. I’m having a little one just like you. If it’s a girl, she’ll be called Sybil. If it’s a boy, he’ll be Merlin.”

“Baby!”

“Yes, a baby.”

“Baby play?” Arthur held out the wooden toy Uther had been too distracted to even notice he still clutched.

The woman smiled a bit brighter, her body relaxing as the contraction eased. “They’ll be a bit too small to play for a while, I’m afraid. I’ll play with you for now though.” She glanced over at Uther as if for permission. He nodded.

Feeling a bit awkward just standing there, Uther left them for the larger room, sneaking peeks back to watch as the woman played with his son. Looking closer, he realised she was really more a girl still than a woman. She was a pretty young thing, for all her mousy brown hair and plain clothes were doused with sweat. He imagined that was what Ygraine must have looked like too as she laboured with their son. He hadn’t been there for that part of it; it wouldn’t have been proper. Despite her obvious discomfort as another contraction seized her she was never short with Arthur, even when the boy poked her stomach with a finger. She simply guided his hand away, distracting him with his toy.

Coming to a decision, Uther stepped back into the room.

“Woman, what is your name?”

He could have sworn there was a shadow of an eye roll, but it was too fleeting to know for sure. “My name is Hunith, sire.”

“Well, Hunith, I would like to give you a position. As Arthur’s nursemaid. Of course you may tend to your own babe while you work.”

The girl’s eyes widened. “I- thank you, sire. But I already have a job. I came to Camelot to be Gaius’s apprentice. I could not leave him without help.”

“Nonsense.” Uther waved away her concerns. Gaius would chastise him later for it, but he wanted this girl. “I will find Gaius another assistant. I need someone to care for the prince, and you appear to do well at it.”

She looked at Arthur again, and her expression softened. “I supposed I must accept th-”

Her body was racked by yet another contraction, and Uther could tell by the expression on her face that it was not like the others. “Where is Gaius? I need him. Now.”

Uther hurried to the window, but could not catch a glimpse of the man in the courtyard. “I do not know. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“Soon may be too late.”

Arthur whimpered and tried to cuddle closer, but Hunith could not comfort him now. Uther snatched his son from the bed, pushing him towards a corner of the room. “Sit, boy. Stay.”

“Sire, please, I need your help.”

The last time he’d heard those words it was Gaius. Then too he had taken Arthur away from a woman who cared about him, seeking to protect them both. Ygraine’s face had been as pale as Hunith’s was now, her breathing as laboured. Uther tried to push down the memories and see the woman was in front of him now, but it was impossible until a hand gripped his, punishingly tight.

“Sire, _please_.”

“What do I do?”

He had never in his life expected to be in this position, between a woman’s legs with no erotic intentions, staring dumbly as a head emerged into his hands. Hunith talked him through it with increasingly strained words, doing her best to make herself heard over Arthur’s confused whines. When it was all said and done and Uther held the blood covered babe in his arms, he was in awe all over again. Arthur had been clean and swaddled the first time he’d ever seen him. He hadn’t realised just how fragile a newborn would look fresh from the womb.

Uther looked up, intending to hand the boy -for it was a boy, with bright blue eyes and head covered in a swath of dark hair- to his mother, but it was for naught.

Once again he held an orphaned boy as he looked upon a mother he could not save.

He didn’t know how long he stood there before Gaius was gently taking the infant from him, cutting the cord and wrapping the baby in a clean cloth. “I’ll take care of him from here, sire. You should get Arthur back to his room.”

Shaken from his reverie, Uther turned on the physician. “Where were you? You could have prevented this!”

“I couldn’t have, sire,” Gaius shook his head sadly. “Even if I returned in time, there was nothing that could have been done. I’m afraid this is all too common, where a woman bleeds too much during birth. We can only be glad her child survived.”

“What will happen to the boy? Where is his father?”

“His father is dead as well. I will need to find him a family.” Gaius took the baby into the larger room setting him down on his own cot while he went to rummage through a cupboard. Uther followed numbly.

Arthur followed as well, toddling over to the baby and climbing up beside him. He poked the baby’s cheek, but instead of crying the baby turned and blinked at him. Though he knew it was impossible, Uther could have sworn the baby smiled.

“No.”

Gaius paused in his task of dipping a pipette into a bottle. “No, sire?”

“You will not need to find him a family. I will take him. As my ward.”

Gaius’s eyebrow crept up alarmingly. “ _You_ , sire?”

“You will find him a wet nurse, but the child shall be mine. He will be Arthur’s brother.”

This was insane, he could recognise that as easily as Gaius, but Uther knew this was what he had to do. Hunith had cared for his son, even as she went through pain. The least he could do was care for hers in return.

“Yes. Find Merlin a wet nurse, Gaius.”

* * *

If anyone (besides Gaius), had anything to say about Uther’s sudden adoption, they did their best to keep the whispers from his ears. Uther kept a close eye on the new servants assigned to the boys, but if they were being mistreated this time he never caught them at it, and that was going to have to be good enough.

Frustrated as he sometimes grew at the boringness of infancy, Arthur clearly adored his new brother. He would bring Merlin toys and attempt to feed him peas from his plate when his nursemaid wasn’t looking. Merlin in turn would grab for Arthur whenever he came near, and when he truly could start to smile he graced all of them upon Arthur. Things would surely change once Merlin was older, and then the boys would fight as all boys did, but for now the servants gushed over how sweet they were, and Uther took solace in knowing at least one area of his life could be simple for now.

From that solace came his only joy during the day. Uther had been so surprised to find that spending time in the nursery, far from making his heart ache with memory, soothed him more than any of Gaius’s potions had. He often found himself in his sparse free time headed to the east side of the castle, settling in a chair with Merlin in his arms and watching Arthur play on the floor. Gaius smirked whenever he caught him at it, but he wisely said nothing.

It had been six months since Merlin’s birth, and Merlin was working on his crawling. Uther laughed (a sound he hadn’t expected to make again) as Arthur waggled his favourite bear in front of his brother, encouraging him to come forwards. Merlin’s coordination wasn’t quite there yet. He tried to propel himself forward, but usually ended up somehow worming himself backwards instead. Typically Uther would pick him back up before he became too frustrated with the exercise, but this morning he was a moment too slow.

With a huff of annoyance, Merlin allowed his limbs to collapse under him, then stretched out a hand towards Arthur and the bear. His normally sky blue eyes glowed bright gold, and the bear was ripped from Arthur’s hands to smack Merlin in the face.

The blow took Merlin by surprise, and he began squalling. Arthur looked alarmed for a moment from the crying, but then squealed happily. “Do again, do again!”

Uther for his part froze. No. No, this couldn’t be happening. Jerkily he got to his feet and stumbled for the door. He grabbed the first servant to walk by. “You, get Gaius. Now!”

The servant scrambled off to do as she was told. Uther slammed the door closed again, then scooped Arthur off the floor. Arthur protested, not done with playtime, but Uther ignored him, carrying him over to his sleeping chamber and dumping him in his cot. The boy grew angry, working himself into a tantrum that normally Uther would have disciplined. Instead he closed the door between that chamber and the main one where Merlin, over his fright by now, lay attempting to suck on his toes.

He looked so, so _normal_. Perhaps Uther had been seeing things. Merlin was an _infant_ , after all. But the stuffed bear was still in its damning position next to the boy, and Uther had no other explanation for how it had gotten there.

By the time Gaius arrived, Merlin was frustrated and crying again. Uther had made no move to pick him up, however. He couldn’t bring himself to go near the child. Not now, not until he knew what was going on. Gaius frowned at the scene, fetching Merlin himself. Merlin calmed himself quickly, recognising someone he loved.

“Sire, what’s wrong? Where’s Arthur?”

“He’s safe in the other room. Gaius… the boy, he… _sorcery_ …”

Gaius’s eyes widened, and he stared down at the baby in his arms. Merlin had snuggled into his chest, well on his way to falling asleep. He looked so innocent in that state, no sign of the darkness that had flooded out of him.

“You must be mistaken, sire. A child of his age could never-”

“Well then someone must have cursed him! I know what I saw, Gaius!” Yes, that made sense. Some sorcerer must be trying to get their revenge on him by targeting his children.

In the two and a half years since Uther’s eyes had been opened to just how evil magic truly was, he had worked tirelessly to free his kingdom of its plague. Sorcerers had been tracked down and rounded up, the old religion banned from all households, and the last dragon was currently wasting away in the depths beneath the castle. Camelot was a safer place for it, he knew, but he was not so naïve as to think he hadn’t made enemies from it along the way.

“You have to free him of this curse, Gaius. Do whatever it takes.”

“I have never heard of a curse that causes another to do magic, sire.” He clutched the boy tighter to his chest. “I will have to do some research.”

“Do whatever you must,” Uther repeated. “In the meantime, he will stay in your chambers. His wet nurse may come to feed him, but he may have no other visitors, and he is not to leave your rooms. I will not risk the curse spreading to anyone else. Especially Arthur.”

It was clear Gaius was not in favour of this plan, but he knew better than to argue. “As you wish, sire.” He left with Merlin sleeping on his shoulder.

Uther went back into Arthur’s room. His son had tantrumed himself into a sleep state as well. He would not be happy when Merlin was not there when he woke up, but Uther had to protect him.

He would try to protect both his children. Whatever it took.

* * *

Gaius looked, but he could come up with no explanation. Merlin continued to do magic, floating toys to himself or making Gaius’s instruments dance in the air. Uther would slap anything he saw out of the air, much to Merlin’s distress, but it never stopped it from happening again. By some blessing the only time they could be sure he would not act out was while he was feeding. With Gaius shooing the woman from the moment Merlin unlatched, the secret was successfully kept from the rest of the castle.

Uther was at his wit’s end. He felt helpless, and he _hated_ being helpless. Arthur screamed every time he visited, begging for Merlin’s return. His visits had decreased drastically over the past few weeks. It was too much to listen to his son’s plaintive cries, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop them. Merlin was more irritable as well, refusing to be consoled no matter what Gaius or his nurse did.

There was only one thing to do for it. If he was going to cure Merlin, he was going to have to take desperate measures.

He dismissed the guards in the dungeons. He couldn’t risk any of them getting curious and overhearing this conversation. Uther grabbed a torch on the way down, letting the glow led him down the narrow path.

He never failed to be awed at the size of the cavern. It had been carved out hundreds of years ago, back when the alliance between the dragons and the dragonlords had first been created. The dragons could come to roost there whenever they were in Camelot, lay their nests and rest between flights. Now the cavern held only one dragon. The last dragon. 

“Dragon!” he shouted into the void. “Show yourself!”

There was a long pause, and for a moment Uther thought that the dragon wasn’t going to appear. But then the clanking of chain announced its arrival. The massive creature glared down at him.

“I am not a dog to come at your command,” it hissed.

“You will do as I command, or I will make your existence even more miserable than it is now.” He had the power here, not this creature. “And what I command is that you remove the curse that has been placed upon my household.”

The dragon snorted in derision. “Your household? The boy is not of your household.”

Of course he already knew what Uther was there for. He’d nearly forgotten the dragons’ ability to see the future. “But his association with me is why he has been targeted by these monsters. Merlin is innocent.”

“As were each of the other sorcerers who fell beneath the flames of your ignorance!” the dragon roared. “The young warlock is no more cursed than they were.”

“So he _is_ a sorcerer.” Uther forced down the pain that stabbed through his chest. What more could the fates put him through? What had he done to deserve all this?

“Your thirst for revenge will be your undoing, Uther Pendragon. The events of the future have already been set in motion, and while the path may wind differently, the destination will be the same.”

“Then I will simply have to destroy the path.”

Uther stalked out of the cavern, ignoring the questioning looks from the guards who hovered in the hall waiting to retake their post. Gaius was in his chambers when he arrived, reading one of his lengthy tombs next to Merlin’s cot. He scrambled to his feet as soon at Uther entered. Sometimes in his face must have signalled his intent, for he quickly moved to stand in front of the baby.

“Move aside, Gaius. It has been confirmed, the boy is indeed cursed, but there is only one cure. He is a sorcerer, and a sorcerer’s fate he must meet.”

Gaius stood firm. “Sire, he’s a child. Surely you can’t believe he would do anything to harm anyone.”

“Not now. But he will grow, and then who knows what damage he may wreak.” He had to stay strong, for the sake of his kingdom. Even if it broke his heart. “I cannot allow him to endanger the kingdom.”

“Uther, I once made you an oath, and I have stood by it. I was once like Merlin. Am I a danger to the kingdom as well?”

Uther winced at the reminder of the bargain he had struck with his closest friend. After Nimueh’s betrayal, it had made perfect sense to him that the only other person in the room that night, the only other person who’d had any control at all over the situation, was also to blame. Gaius had sworn on his life that he’d had nothing to do with Ygraine’s death, and he had offered up his magic in exchange for his life. As far as Uther knew, he hadn’t done even the tiniest spell since. It didn’t stop the seed of doubt that forever festered inside him, rotting and terrible. “You have control. The child does not.”

“What if I can change that?”

Uther’s frown deepened. “How?”

“Cold iron. You know it supresses the body’s ability to cast. We can use it on Merlin.”

They had used it before, for the sorcerers who fought back during their capture. But there was only one item of cold iron in their possession. “The boy cannot live in handcuffs.”

“The blacksmith can create a new piece. Something he can wear without suspicion. No one need ever know it is anything other than a normal piece of jewellery. However, there will be side effects from such long-term exposure.”

“Which you will deal with as needed.” Yes, this could work. He would not have to go forward with the unthinkable. The dragon was wrong. No future was ever set in stone. “See that it is done.”

“Then may Merlin return to his room with Arthur? The children miss each other.”

“If you are certain he can cause Arthur no harm, he may return as my ward. But neither of them may ever know about this curse. I will not have their loyalties divided.”

“As you wish, sire.” Gaius was visibly relieved, but Uther did not allow his feelings to show. He had made a mistake allowing himself to grow close to Hunith’s child. He would learn from his mistake for the future. Merlin had to be watched, but he would never be trusted again.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur tugged at the itchy collar of his shirt. He hated this shirt. By the end of the banquet he knew his neck would be covered in red blotches from the fabric rubbing against him. There was no point in complaining to George, however. Any flaws would be seen to be not the fault of the blasted shirt, but a personal failure on George’s part. His manservant would redouble his efforts to make the shirt the most magnificent one in Arthur’s wardrobe, and Arthur would be stuck wearing it night after night until he got it right.

“You know you wouldn’t get so splotchy if you’d keep your hands off.”

A cool touch to the back of his neck made Arthur jump. He whirled around to find Merlin grinning at him as he examined the heavily starched collar. Merlin rubbed another dollop of what must have been some kind of salve judging by the jar he held in his other hand, then stepped back to examine his handiwork.

Someone had dressed Merlin for the night in a dark tunic that did nothing for his complexion, draining even the little colour he managed to maintain. Arthur understood it was probably to help hide the stains from Merlin’s usual clumsiness, but to his mind at least a slight grease spot would be preferable to making it obvious that a slight breeze could blow him over.

“Did Gaius give you permission to go tonight?”

Merlin’s smirk faded quickly into a scowl. “I’m not so pathetic that I can’t manage to get through dinner, Arthur.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Are you sure about that?” He was only half kidding.

He’d always known his friend was different. Where Arthur could dash up and down any of the castle’s steps with barely a thought, one flight winded Merlin to the point of stitches. Where Arthur had had a wooden sword thrust into his hand from the moment he’d been able to hold one, Merlin was kept as far from the practice courts as possible. It seemed every time Arthur got an idea for a new game, Merlin was stuck in bed under the care of Gaius and being watched carefully by the king, who always checked to be sure Merlin’s band was securely in place.

Merlin’s band was covered now, as it usually was. Uther had somehow made a metal band around the wrist fashionable, so it wasn’t that anyone would have thought Merlin odd for having it, but Arthur knew his friend hated the visible reminder that there was an evil in his body that he could not expel. Gaius had explained to the boys that it was made of a special alloy that helped alleviate Merlin’s symptoms, that without it his illness would be much worse. When Arthur was small, he asked why the band couldn’t cure Merlin entirely, and Gaius had just smiled at him sadly and admitted that Merlin’s illness wasn’t the type that could be cured, that he would have to live with it for the rest of his life.

So knowing that, Arthur had done his utmost to ensure Merlin wasn’t reminded of his weaknesses. He chose games that allowed Merlin to sit or lay down or ride on horseback. When Merlin was stuck in bed, they played endless games of chess or cards. While they bickered endlessly, as all boys do, there was never any fight that was not immediately over the moment Arthur heard that Merlin was too sick to attend supper that night.

And so it was with genuine concern that Arthur questioned Merlin’s capabilities, no matter how much it might aggravate him.

“Would you like me to go get a note from my physician to prove I am up for the task, mother?” Merlin crossed his arms over his chest, and Arthur spotted the glint of silver peeking out by his wrist. “Go coddle Morgana if you need someone to nursemaid. Gwen says she didn’t sleep well last night, so if anyone should be kept from the banquet it’s her so she doesn’t fall asleep in her soup.”

Arthur nudged him playfully. “Yes well, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, _Mer_ lin? I wonder if Lady Ludmila ever did get those carrot stains out of her dress?”

Merlin stuck his tongue out at him, but there was a smile playing at his lips. “Point is I’m going. And if you don’t stop standing around scratching yourself raw, you’ll be the one left behind. Come on.” He set the jar of salve down on Arthur’s dresser, then tugged Arthur out the door.

Arthur understood Merlin’s determination not to miss this particular banquet. It was a celebration of the new knights who had just passed their trials that week. There were three this go round. Arthur had tested their mettle himself, ensuring that these were men he fully trusted to watch his back on the battlefield. Merlin had watched from the side lines while ostensibly doing chores for Gaius, but in reality taking the opportunity to mock Arthur every time he came over for a drink between bouts.

There were to be minstrels and a dancing troupe along with a wide variety of treats at this feast. Arthur was sure there would also be overflowing goblets of wine and a few headaches the next morning, his and Merlin’s among them. All in all it would be a night of joy and festivity, and Arthur wouldn’t want to miss it either. But the extra excitement meant extra exertion and that never ended well.

There was no stopping Merlin, however, as he dragged Arthur towards the hall. He babbled on about the desserts Cook had promised to make and the small bit of dance he’d spied the troupe practicing. Merlin was far too ungainly to dance (Arthur wasn’t even entirely sure if it was part of his illness or just natural clumsiness), but he loved to watch others. For his birthdays he always begged the king for performers. Uther always gave them to him, of course, because no one could turn down Merlin when he cast those big puppy eyes (he did turn down Arthur’s request on his twelfth birthday to start his own menagerie, which Arthur still thought to be entirely unfair).

Uther was already seated at the table, Morgana to his left. Morgana always complained that Arthur and Merlin at least had each other to talk to on Uther’s other side. They didn’t bother to point out that before she had moved into the castle that had been Merlin’s seat. Uther had made plain he regretted the new seating arrangements on many occasions, however, chastising the boys whenever they forgot themselves in their squabbles (which was often). Gwen and George were waiting with pitchers of wine, pouring for each of the royals as they selected their foods.

Conversation started out short and polite, as it always did before they had a bit of looseness in their veins. Arthur and Uther did their best to be seen as dignified, while Merlin had been scolded for his chattiness enough to make him think twice before opening his mouth. Morgana for her part kept to Gwen, and Arthur vastly preferred to ignore their giggles over the men in the room.

Eventually the minstrels came out to liven the evening, and Merlin and Arthur were soon roaring with laughter over the bawdy tales in their songs. Uther looked decidedly less impressed but couldn’t help a smile at his son’s and ward’s amusement.

“If you two wish to behave as monkeys, perhaps we shall have to get you that menagerie so you can live in it,” he suggested with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“Sorry, Father,” Arthur choked out, swallowing around another laugh and struggling to force a straight face. He thought he did impressively well, but Merlin failed utterly, giggling even harder at Arthur’s attempt.

“Now you look like a monkey’s arse!” he howled. Arthur whacked him upside the head.

“Boys.” Uther’s voice was less than firm, however, so Arthur supposed they weren’t truly in trouble yet. “Arthur, why don’t you take Morgana and begin the dancing?”

“Only if Morgana promises not to step on my toes this time.”

“Me? You’re one to talk-”

“A pack of monkeys,” Uther sighed wistfully, looking to the sky in supplication. “Is it too late to raise a pack of monkeys instead?”

With a grin Arthur stood and bowed to Morgana with an exaggerated flourish. Morgana rolled her eyes but took the offered hand and allowed Arthur to lead her to the dance floor. He had to admit, he wasn’t the best of dancers, but he had enough exuberance he could pull it off without embarrassing himself. While he spun Morgana around the hall (without stepping on any toes thank you very much), he could see Merlin and his father chatting stiffly at the table.

His father’s relationship with Merlin had always been an odd one for Arthur. He believed that his father loved Merlin. Merlin had been spoiled from infancy, particularly when he was sick. If he asked Uther for something, he typically got it, and if one of their pranks went awry it was usually Arthur who took the brunt of the punishment. It was just that sometimes there were also moments like this, where Uther seemed to be far more interested in watching Arthur and Morgana dance than engaging in Merlin’s attempts at conversation… and then Arthur wasn’t quite sure if there weren’t other emotions mixed in there as well.

When the music finally stopped and Arthur, as fighting fit as he was, was too winded from the last spirited gavotte to dance another step, they resumed their seats.

“I don’t see Morgana limping this time at least,” Merlin murmured into his ear.

“Oh shut up, Merlin.”

The head of the dancing troupe took his place in front of the table of nobles. “That was a fine display of talent from your court, King Uther,” he allowed with a deep bow. “Now if it pleases you, we would like to show off our own talents for your entertainment.”

Uther nodded his assent, and Merlin leaned forward eagerly in his seat. The troupe did not disappoint, twirling and flipping their way around the floor. Regardless, Arthur let himself zone out and his mind wander, scratching idly once more at his neck. While he enjoyed the act of dancing and could admit these performers were very good at their craft, he never really got the appeal of watching someone else dance. He would have preferred a tournament, but he understood that after fighting day and night to earn their places as warriors, his knights probably favoured this over yet more battle practice.

With a flourish the song ended, and the dancers bowed from their final positions. The head of the troupe stepped forward again as the hall applauded. “And now, your majesty, for our final performance we would like to request the assistance of the lovely Lady Morgana.”

Morgana’s eyes lit up as Uther waved a hand allowing her to go. Arthur could see Merlin pouting next to him. “Sorry, Merlin, Morgana just makes a pretty girl than you do.”

Merlin kicked him in the shin. Hard.

“My lady, if you would sit here?” He gestured to a chair that had been placed in the middle of the space. Morgana swept her skirts out and daintily took her seat. The music struck up a slow tempo, and a few of the dancers began to make a circle around her, undulating rhythmically. Ribbons appeared their hands seemingly out of nowhere and they waved them artfully in the air to the awe of their watchers.

The music grew faster and the movement along with it. Even Arthur found himself mesmerised as he hadn’t been earlier. It was only by the barest coincidence that he caught the flash of silver from the corner of his eye.

“Knife!”

Uther whirled just in time to stop the dagger headed towards his throat, wielded by the self-same troupe leader. Arthur attempted to draw the sword at this waist but found it would not release from its scabbard. Around the hall he saw his knights and guards having the same issue. Only pieces of cutlery, barely sharp enough to cut the roast boar they’d had for dinner, were able to be raised in their defence.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the troupe leader warned, dagger still pointed towards Uther. “Not unless you want your beloved ward to suffer.”

Arthur turned back towards the middle of the hall to find Morgana surrounded by glowing eyes. Gwen let out a sound of distress, barely restraining herself from futilely going to her mistress’s rescue. Sorcerers. They should have known.

“Let her go, and perhaps your life will be spared,” Uther growled.

“I think not. A life for a life, Uther Pendragon. That is how the old religion works. You took the life of someone dear to me, and now I must do the same.”

There was a small poke to Arthur’s back, and he turned just enough to see Merlin passing him two knives from the dinner table. Arthur carefully took them, hiding the movement with his body, then palmed his own knife, sticky with boar juice. Only two of the dancers around Morgana seemed to have magic, both of them with hands raised and ready to act on command. He could only hope their leader was not a sorcerer as well. It seemed unlikely since his first choice of weapon was a dagger, but one could never be too careful where magic users were concerned. A few of the other dancers were similarly armed, small blades having been drawn from within their costumes.

There were three more taps to Arthur’s back, then Merlin’s voice, far whinier than it ever was normally, rang out. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

He stumbled back dramatically from the table. The troupe leader flinched, wavering as if unsure if he should stop Merlin from moving. While the man was distracted, Arthur took his opportunity. He flung each of his knives at the sorcerers around Morgana, one striking a dancer in the heart, the other two burying themselves in the shoulder of the sorcerer nearest Morgana.

Chaos ensued as the spell over their weapons was lifted. Morgana sprang out of the chair, lifting it to crash it down on a dancer’s head. Merlin had liberated a ladle from somewhere and waved it menacingly at the troupe leader, who let out a growl and slashed him in the arm. At Merlin’s pained whimper, Arthur shoved him out of the way to draw the man into battle, easily disarming him with his greater skill. The fight was over quickly, the troupe vastly outnumbered, particularly with their two sorcerers out of commission.

While his men led the troupe out of the hall to the dungeons and Uther ran to ensure Morgana’s health, Arthur looked around for Merlin. He found him on the floor, cradling his bleeding arm.

“You didn’t have to shove me quite so hard, you prat,” Merlin griped, accepting the hand up.

Arthur huffed a laugh. “A mouse’s sneeze could have knocked you over, Merlin. I barely touched you.”

Merlin did not dignify that with a response, focusing instead on his arm. “He ruined my shirt. I liked this shirt.”

“I’m sure if you asked nicely Guinevere will sew all back up nicely for you.” She probably wouldn’t be able to get the blood stains out, however. Perhaps it had been a good thing after all that Merlin was wearing black. “Come on, let’s get you to Gaius so he can sew you back up as well.”


	3. Chapter 3

It felt like ages before Merlin was released from Gaius’s chambers that night.

First he’d had to endure Arthur’s lecture while they waited for Gaius to return from checking over Morgana, then Gaius had his own lecture to give as he stitched Merlin’s arm with neat little threads. Apparently, he, untrained and untested in battle, should have left any fighting that had to be done to the knights. He was meant to cower in the corner like the fragile blossom that he was.

Never mind that he was the one who had provided the distraction that allowed Arthur to save Morgana. If it hadn’t been for Merlin, the sorcerers could have killed her, or Uther, or Arthur, or whoever they had aimed to take their revenge on. Maybe all of them, Merlin included.

And as a reward -or more likely punishment- he was told to rest tomorrow. To a degree he didn’t mind. He had had a roiling nausea rumbling in his stomach since they left the hall, and Gaius’s medicine didn’t seem to be touching it yet. The beginnings of a headache were poking at the base of his skull as well. Gaius blamed adrenaline. Any kind of excitement always knocked his humours off balance.

Arthur always joked that the problem was his humours had no sense of humour, and Merlin had to agree. Any sort of party or feast or energising game always seemed to land him in bed. It had driven him mad as a child, wishing he could run around the castle like Arthur did so freely, and even more now, when he saw his friends enjoying their lives and he was stuck in his rooms. At least he was allowed to help Gaius now and then. As long as he didn’t overexert himself, that was, which according to Uther was lifting anything heavier than a teaspoon.

Stupid curse. He wished a thousand deaths on the sorcerer who had cast it on him.

His quarters were blissfully silent. Merlin shed his clothes with little regard to where they fell before flopping heavily into bed. His servant Morris would take care of it all in the morning when he brought Merlin’s breakfast. For the most part Merlin hated having Morris underfoot, but to be honest, he hated cleaning more. And if he had to have a servant around (and according to Uther he did), he may as well give the man something to do.

Sleep called to him like a siren song, but Merlin couldn’t seem to follow it. Instead he tossed and turned, wincing and moaning whenever his injured arm scraped a little too roughly across his sheets or pinched under his body. His headache was building, throbbing painfully with every movement, and he was ever more certain he was going to throw up. Perhaps he should have someone fetch Gaius to give him something stronger. Clearly the tonics he’d had earlier were not nearly enough. At the very least he should fetch the chamber pot to his bed. That might be bit much, to ask Morris to clean up his sick from the floorboards, especially since he wouldn’t be coming in until morning.

Merlin tossed off the covers with a groan and swung his legs down to the floor. He swayed as he stood, vision going fuzzy, and reached out a hand blindly for support. Instead of hitting the nightstand, however, he smacked into the candle still alight upon it.

Frantically he scrambled to grab it before it could hit the floor. “No! No no no _stop_!”

And by some horrifying miracle, it did.

For a long moment Merlin stood as frozen as the candle, staring at it in terror. Even the flames did not seem to be moving. He was dreaming. That had to be it. Somehow he really had fallen asleep, and now he was having a nightmare, and if he just pinched himself he was going to wake up and find that he was safe in his bed and none of this was really happening.

He did not wake up.

Panicking, he finally unfroze and begged the candle, “Move, move, please just move!”

The candle continued its flight and hit the floorboards, the flame catching on his trousers and setting them alight. Merlin stamped on it without thinking, howling in pain when it burnt his bare foot. He ran to his washbasin and dumped the water on the growing flames. Then the hiss of extinguishment was the only sound left in the room.

Merlin’s bottom hit his bed before he even registered his knees had buckled. Oh gods, what was happening to him? No, no it couldn’t have been him. It was just a coincidence, his eyes were playing tricks on him, Gaius gave him the wrong potion and now he was hallucinating…

Much as he begged any of those excuses to be true, Merlin couldn’t bring himself to truly believe them. Which left only one explanation, the most terrifying explanation of all.

It was magic.

But no, he couldn’t have done magic. He wasn’t a sorcerer! He had nothing to do with magic! There had to be an intruder in his rooms, an intruder who had snuck up and was casting spells on him. Spells that… caught randomly falling candles to keep his room from catching on fire…

Okay maybe that was a stretch. But no more of a stretch than Merlin doing the magic!

Only when he was becoming lightheaded did Merlin realise he was beginning to hyperventilate. He tried to slow his breathing, but his thoughts kept coming faster and faster, jumbling up until they boiled down to one question, repeated over and over until it was screaming at him. How, how, _how had he done sorcery?_

Merlin gave himself a shake. No, he couldn’t focus on that now. He had to clean up the mess of his chambers. If Morris saw the scorch on the floor or his sopping, burnt trousers, he would want to know what had happened, and Merlin knew he wouldn’t be able to lie well enough not to set off any alarms.

He grabbed a cloth from his cupboard and mopped up the mess of his floor. The trousers he debated for a moment before burying under the logs of his fireplace. Hopefully Morris wouldn’t notice them before lighting it in the morning and destroying the evidence. Merlin made sure every candle in his room was fully extinguished before crawling back into bed. His arm was aching from the strain he’d just put it through, and he was sure if he had the light to look at it the skin would be puffy around the stitches. On the bright side his headache and nausea had finally faded.

In fact they had vanished right about the same time as the nightmare with the candle.

The realisation struck him like a club. He’d been so sure he was seconds away from throwing up, and now his only trouble was that he was ravenous. That couldn’t be right. Excitement always made his illness worse, and the stress of the last… dear gods, had it only been a quarter of an hour? Regardless, it was clearly more strain in a short time than his body was built for enduring, not with his curse.

On habit, he checked his bracelet. The metal band had been a part of him since before he could remember, mitigating the effects of his curse and protecting him from harm. Uther and Gaius asked after it every time he took ill, making sure it was securely in place. The familiar weight of it was there as always, the metal smooth under his fingers. Except… except that one part…

Merlin jumped out of bed and hurried to the window, not daring to light another candle right now. The moon was bright and undisturbed by cloud cover, giving him plenty of light to see by. There, on the surface of the band, barely wide enough to catch his attention, was a crack.

It had to have happened when Arthur shoved him out of the way earlier that night. There was no other time he would have hit it hard enough to break the metal. He hadn’t actually thought the metal _could_ break. It had never so much as scuffed his entire life. But then, he’d never done much hard labour, and it wasn’t like he was allowed to roughhouse like Arthur did. His impact with the ground was the most force the band had likely ever felt.

It was his curse, it had to be. That was what had caused the candle to freeze in mid-air. With the band damaged, it was able to leak out of him slightly more unchecked than usual. It wasn’t that he had done magic, it was the magic that had been done to him. But the difference didn’t matter. The fact was he had wanted the candle to stop and it _had_. The magic had come out of him without any conscious effort on his part just because of a split-second plea from his mind. He’d had no control over it.

He was a danger. Who knew what havoc a stray thought could wreak?

He should tell someone. Gaius for sure, and Uther always wanted to know any developments with effects of his curse, and Arthur would not be happy if he wasn’t included, and-

And no, he definitely could not tell any of them.

Curse or no curse, it was magic. And magic was against the law. Which meant potentially he was _in_ danger as well.

Until he knew more, Merlin had to keep his mouth shut. Maybe it was just a fluke. It might not happen again. He would just wait, and watch, and pray that this was nothing at all.

Ignorance is bliss, as they say.


	4. Hiatus

Just wanted to pop in to let people know this story is on a temporary hiatus. I am in the health field and as you ~~can't possibly not~~ may know, we're a little busy at the moment. Hopefully I will be back to post the rest of this soon, but for now pretty much any time I'm not at the hospital is spent asleep. Thanks for your understanding.


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